


Memory

by stelladora



Category: BioShock
Genre: Fontaine doesn't exist, M/M, WYK doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelladora/pseuds/stelladora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Atlas meet in the Smuggler's Hideout and continue to Hephaestus together. Along the way, Jack realizes there are holes in his memory, and questions where he came from. <br/>AU where Atlas exists and is as good as he first appeared to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory

“Hit the switch up there in the control booth and let me in. I think it's time to shake hands and get acquainted.” Atlas’ voice came over the radio accompanied by the usual static. Jack’s heart was pounding in his chest; he was so close to finally meeting that voice, the man who’d been leading him through this madhouse since the beginning. He entered the control booth, giving the submarine a glance through the glass. Time to meet Moira and Patrick, as well. Jack got excited just thinking about seeing the family’s reunion. After so much horror and terror, it would be refreshing to see joy.

The booth went dark as Andrew Ryan’s voice boomed through the radio. Everything afterwards happened in quick succession; the screams of the bloodthirsty splicers, Atlas yelling at him through the radio…the explosion. Jack fought his way down to the wreckage, his eye on the man on the ground in front of it. Atlas. He was screaming, tears rolling down his face, his expression twisted between rage, shock, and sorrow.

Jack beat back the splicers until he finally reached the sobbing mess of a man. This wasn’t how he’d pictured their meeting. “Atlas!” he yelled, trying to be heard above the din. “Atlas, we’ve got to get out of here, you’re going to be killed!” Atlas clutched wildly at Jack, barely able to process the information. Jack defended both of them as he ran blindly forward, going anywhere that wasn’t here.

They arrived somewhere Jack had never seen before: there was grass, real grass. It looked like a graveyard. Jack released his grip around Atlas’ waist, ceasing to drag him forward. The other man seemed more composed now, to Jack’s relief.

“I should have known, I should have _fucking_ known,” Atlas muttered. “Moira, Patrick…this is all my fault…” Jack knelt down beside Atlas, unsure of what to do. He put a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, and that seemed to pull him out of his thoughts. Atlas sighed, forcing the last few shaky breaths out of his lungs. “Hey, boyo,” Atlas said weakly, making an attempt to brighten his expression. That attempt to smile broke Jack’s heart more than the crying. “Sorry our first meeting wasn’t better,” he said quietly.

“Atlas, it’s alright,” Jack said reassuringly. The words sounded empty and stupid even to his own ears. “I’m sorry. I should have done something, I should have—”

“This isn’t your fault,” Atlas said from where he sat on the ground. “It’s _Ryan_ who did this.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Jack promised, a hard edge in his voice. Atlas looked up at him and nodded after a second, seeing the determination in the young man’s face. “I kill Ryan, then we get out of here. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah.” Atlas cleared his throat and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He stood and held his hand out to Jack. “Pleased to meet you, by the way.”

Jack stood as well and shook his hand, smiling wanly. “Likewise. And, ah, my name is Jack,” he added embarrassedly. “Don’t think I ever mentioned that.”

“Yeah, there’s a whole hell of a lot you haven’t mentioned,” Atlas pointed out with a smile. “Where the hell did you come from? We don’t get many new visitors down here these days.”

“I…there was a plane crash. We went down near this big lighthouse, and I found a Bathysphere that led me here,” Jack explained, telling him the first and only explanation that came to mind. The two of them set off walking, following the signs to the Rapture Metro that would take them to Ryan.

“My condolences,” Atlas said flatly. Before they rounded a corner, Jack stuck his head out, making sure the coast was clear. He saw a splicer and swiftly raised his gun. Before he could fire more than one shot, there was a cloud of red haze, and the monster was gone. Jack tensed and looked wildly around, wondering if all his plasmid use was finally addling his brain.

“There was—where did it go?” he wondered aloud, panic in his voice.

“Let’s keep moving,” Atlas suggested, and began to lead the way. A few feet ahead of them, Jack saw the same splicer appear out of thin air. He wasted no time in throwing a handful of fire at the thing, and it began to scream. Atlas fired at it, and before long the thing was dead in the grass. “Houdini splicer,” Atlas explained. “I’ve heard talk about them. They’ve got some sort of teleportation plasmid, never released large-scale. Nasty little buggers.”

Jack just nodded, eyeing the corpse warily, before moving on to Rolling Hills. As they walked, a loud hissing noise turned their attention to the vents hidden in the walls. Yellow gas seeped out everywhere.

“Christ, Ryan’s really gone off the deep end,” Atlas said, looking around. “I'm no sort of botanist, but I think Ryan has just killed Arcadia. The man's put something foul into the air. Bottom of the ocean, boyo. All the oxygen comes from the trees. No trees, no oxygen,” he explained.

“So we’ve either got to find a way to reverse this, or get out of here before we asphyxiate,” Jack suggested. “Think there’s anything in there that could help?” he asked, pointing to the illuminated sign of Langford Laboratories.

“Langford! She cares more about these damn trees than anything. Let’s go.”

 

“We should split up,” Atlas suggested. “It’ll be faster to get the ingredients for this Lazarus Vector that way.”

Jack hesitated. He knew Atlas was right, but he was loathe to leave the man’s side after all they’d seen. What if Atlas ended up dead like Langford? He’d fought so hard to finally meet the man, and Jack didn’t want to lose him. Fear and apprehension must have shown on his face, because Atlas’ expression softened.

“It’ll be alright, Jacky boy,” he said with a smile. It was nice to see someone smile at him for once the way Atlas did. “We’ve got the radio still. You just promise you’ll be careful, alright? Don’t go pullin’ any crazy stunts like you did back in Neptune’s bounty,” he said.

Atlas’ calm was contagious, and Jack managed to smile. “How was I supposed to know there would be splicers underneath the docks?” he asked. He put a hand on Atlas’ shoulder, looking into the man’s sincere blue eyes. “You be careful as well.”

They went their separate ways at the Farmer’s Market, Jack heading for the Winery. The place was a labyrinth of barrels and splicers, but he finally managed to collect all the water they needed. He pressed the talk button on the radio as he made his way back.

“Atlas, I’ve got it. How are things on your end? Need any help?”

“I’m fine, apart from a few stings. Those bees are vicious, you know?”

Jack chuckled at that, remembering the one summer during his childhood when he’d found a bee’s nest in the barn. He’d accidentally knocked into it and gotten stung all over— the memory somehow stopped. Jack tried to remember what he’d done, how his parents had reacted, but there was only darkness in his mind. How old had he been then? He forced the thoughts out of his head; he and Atlas had bigger problems to deal with. “I’ll meet you back at the stalls in the market,” Jack said over the radio.

When Jack returned, Atlas was seated upon the counter at one of the abandoned fruit stalls. He had bee stings on his forearms, but other than that he looked no worse for wear. Jack noticed the man looking him up and down, likewise checking for injuries. Jack couldn’t help smiling at him. “I’m fine. Let’s get back to the lab,” he said.

They combined everything according the notes they’d found in Langford’s office and thrown the whole thing into the mister. “Christ, this is going to take an age,” Atlas said, watching the slow progress of the machine. As they stood there, the two men heard the now-familiar shrieks of splicers. They glanced at one another, both now on alert.

“I’ll go close off the doors and set up some traps,” Jack suggested. Atlas was right on his heels as he sprinted down to secure the door. “Hope you’re feeling up for a fight,” Jack said as he fired proximity grenades near the entrance.

“Oh, always. Nothing so cathartic as violence, is there?” Atlas smiled at him, and Jack found himself wishing, for the thousandth time, that they were out of Rapture. He wondered what it would be like to have a normal talk with Atlas, and get to know him outside of this nightmare.

Soon, the lab flooded with splicers, and it was nearly impossible to hear anything above the screaming and gunshots. Jack set a few of them on each other, hypnotizing them with a plasmid he’d picked up in Neptune’s Bounty. He kept his eye on Atlas as best he could, and was relieved to see that the other man was holding his own. It seemed like hours before the two managed to subdue all the monsters that had broken in; things were quieter when there were only a few more to deal with, and Jack was able to hear the ding of the machine upstairs. “Atlas! Go throw the switch on that thing, I’ve got it handled here,” Jack shouted, setting another splicer on fire.

Atlas didn’t need to be told twice; the smoke in the air made the already thin oxygen even worse. The man ran off, and Jack took care of the splicers that tried to follow him. When things were safe again, Jack slumped down against a wall and took stock of his injuries. Nothing life-threatening, he decided as he bandaged up a gunshot wound. The scrapes and burns would heal in a few minutes. Atlas’ footsteps could be heard making their way back to him.

“Jack? You alright, lad?” the man called out, still on his guard.

“Yeah. I got the last few,” Jack said from the floor. “Just resting. Did that potion work?”

“Sure did. Everything’s settled.” Atlas sat down next to him, taking a deep breath. “Good work. You feelin’ alright?”

“Of course. Got a few bruises and burns, but they should heal in a few minutes,” Jack reported, pushing up the sleeves of his ragged sweater to inspect himself.

“Minutes?” Atlas scoffed.

Jack looked blankly at him. “Yes. Yours will too, right?” he asked, not understanding Atlas’ disbelief. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked, suddenly panicking. What would he do if Atlas didn’t make it? He scanned the man’s body, looking for signs of heavy bleeding.

“No, I’m not, but I also don’t know whatever secret you’ve got to heal yourself up that fast,” Atlas said. Come to think of it, the scratches he’d noticed on Jack’s face when he sat down were gone now.

“That doesn’t…happen to you?” Jack asked hesitantly. “Maybe it’s a side effect of the plasmids,” he suggested. _How much of a freak am I?_ Jack wondered. _Why don’t I know how other people work?_

“If it were, those splicers would be a hell of a lot harder to kill,” Atlas pointed out, eyeing Jack. “You’ve got something else going on.” Jack just stared at him helplessly until Atlas smiled. “Consider yourself lucky, though. Come on,” Atlas said as he stood up. “I want you to see this place, now that it’s back to…well, not _normal_ , but it’s safe.”

Jack followed him, trying to ignore the thoughts sneaking into his head. Atlas led him through Arcadia, back to the Tea Garden. “It’s beautiful here,” Jack said, looking around. It made him sad, thinking about the fact that this place would soon be left to ruin.

“I came here with Moira a few times,” Atlas said as he sat down on a bench. He smiled sadly at the memory. “She said this was her favorite place in Rapture.” Jack sat with him, keeping an eye on the man in case he broke down again. “Have you got a family?” Atlas asked him after a while.

“Yeah. My parents live in Kansas,” he said. “We’ve got a farm, and…” Jack trailed off, realizing that he didn’t know what else he could say about his family or his home. “We live in a farmhouse, it’s in Kansas, and it’s…” he stared at the ground. “I can’t remember,” he said quietly, almost horrified. “I should be able to remember my family, shouldn’t I? It’s like when I think about it too hard, everything just dissolves.” He looked at Atlas helplessly.

Atlas’ expression was confused. “Maybe you hit your head a while back,” he suggested reassuringly. He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. _He’s got rough hands,_ Jack thought. _He’s always so gentle, though._ “Don’t worry. We’ll figure everything out.” Inwardly, Atlas wasn’t so certain, but he didn’t want to startle Jack, who he theorized was a lot more fragile on the inside than the outside.

Jack nodded, unable to feel very much worry when Atlas was working so hard to comfort him. He stared at the man’s face as if trying to memorize it, comparing it to the mental image he’d gotten of Atlas while they talked on the radio. In reality, Atlas was very handsome. After seeing nothing but dereliction and grotesques down in Rapture, the Irishman was a welcome sight. His eyes were blue, but not like the dark and cold ocean Jack saw through every window. This blue was more like…something else. Something he felt like he should know.

“Are you ready to get going?” Atlas asked him, breaking his reverie. “We’ll have to go through Fort Frolic, and that’s going to be no picnic. Sander Cohen’s running the place, and he’s a complete lunatic. Let’s just hope he’s otherwise engaged when we get there.”

The two of them stood up and made their way to the Metro.

 

“The ‘sphere to Ryan is up on ahead,” Atlas reported as they stepped into the station at Fort Frolic. The place had clearly once been magnificent, but now it was just creepy. “What was that?” Atlas said, stopping in his tracks. The two looked around, but no splicer came out of hiding. With a horrible feeling of dread in his stomach, Jack led the way to the Bathysphere.

When they’d nearly reached it, the door to the craft swung shut, and the curtains around the windows closed. Atlas raised his gun, and Jack followed suit. A voice that could only be Cohen’s echoed around the room, inviting them inside. “I guess we’ve got no choice,” Jack muttered. Atlas looked furious, but walked with him out of the station, back up to the entrance to Fort Frolic proper.

An ambush was waiting for them. Spider splicers dropped from the ceiling and grabbed Atlas before Jack could get a good shot. The two men fought the monsters, yelling and struggling. The splicers used Atlas as a shield, preventing Jack from shooting. “Atlas!” Jack screamed as the splicers took the man into Cohen’s lair. “Atlas! Atlas!” Jack ran, nearly screaming himself deaf and ignoring everything other than the imminent danger of his only friend. The splicers moved quickly, even while dragging the struggling Atlas. Jack followed them into the Atrium, quickly looking around to try to see which way they’d gone. Neon lights switched on, forcing him to close his eyes for a second. Again, Sander Cohen’s voice greeted him.

“Now that we’ve got that nuisance out of the way…I've waited so long for something tasty to come to this little burg, but all that pass are yokels and rubes. But, oh, where are my manners? Come in, come in! Sander Cohen awaits you, at the Fleet Hall!”

Jack stared up at the ceiling, desperate for some sign of Atlas. _No. No, we didn’t come this far for me to fail him now. We have to go to the surface together, we have to see the sun._ “Where is he?!” Jack screamed. “What the fuck have you done with him?!”

“Now, now, don’t worry. If you behave yourself, you and your little friend will come out of this just fine. Just _give me what I want_ ,” Cohen said threateningly.

Nearly shaking with rage, Jack did as he was told.

 

It felt like an age before he was finished with Cohen’s ‘quadtych,’ despite his best efforts to move quickly through the madhouse that was Fort Frolic. Finally, Cohen descended the staircase to meet him in person. Jack kept a firm hold on his gun.

“Where is Atlas?” Jack yelled, cutting off Cohen while he babbled about the ‘burden of the artist.’

“Ah, always so eager, little moth,” Cohen crooned. “Don’t worry. Your darling friend is right here.” With a sweeping motion, Cohen gestured to the upper atrium, where Jack could see splicers dragging Atlas through an archway. The man was sporting several new bruises, and there was dried blood on his face. Jack wanted nothing more than to bash Cohen’s skull in and tear the man to shreds, but he restrained himself. No telling what those splicers had been instructed to do. Jack ran to meet the weary Atlas and pushed away the splicers.

“Are you alright?” he asked the older man, guilt and fear boiling in his stomach. Atlas gripped Jack’s forearms to support himself. He nodded, a dazed look on his face. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, little moth, you don’t want to stay? I’m crushed. I’ve had such fun with you, you know,” Cohen said. Jack didn’t bother replying, he just led Atlas to the Bathysphere.

The two sat down, able to relax a tiny bit now. “I’m sorry, I should have stopped them, I should have been able to protect you,” Jack said, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“It’s alright,” Atlas assured him. “I’m fine. Worst they did was make me sit in the same room with that freak. But I… I heard what he made you do.” Jack looked down at the floor, unable to meet Atlas’ eye. _Does he think I’m just as bad as Cohen now?_ “We all do what we have to in order to survive,” Atlas went on quietly. He reached over and put his hand over Jack’s where it lay on the seat of the Bathysphere.

Jack hesitantly looked back up at Atlas, relieved beyond belief that the man didn’t hate him now. “I thought I’d lost you,” he confessed quietly, turning his hand over to hold Atlas’ properly.

Atlas smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “You really think you’re getting rid of me that easily?”

_He’s always trying so hard to cheer me up_ , Jack noticed, smiling back at the other man. “I sure hope not. You’re the only thing down here that’s keeping me sane,” Jack confessed. “I mean, in what limited capacity that word applies to me,” he added with a mirthless chuckle.

“What do you mean by that?” Atlas asked.

Jack hesitated, wondering if he should even bring it up. _What if it just makes me seem strange? What if Atlas decides he can’t trust me?_ Banishing these thoughts, Jack sighed. “While I was in there, there were all these posters for this showgirl. Jasmine Jolene, was her name. And…I don’t know. She seemed familiar, somehow. Like I’d heard about her before, heard that name before.” He shot a worried glance at Atlas. “But if I’ve been living in Kansas all my life, how is that possible? This whole place—Rapture, I mean—seems really…nostalgic.”

The two were silent for a moment, Atlas puzzling out what Jack had just said, and Jack waiting for a reply with bated breath. “I don’t have an answer for you, Jacky boy,” Atlas finally confessed. “Honestly, you’re a walking mystery to me. No one else but you can get these Bathyspheres to move, you know. Ryan put them on lockdown.”

That hadn’t been what Jack wanted to hear. He wanted Atlas to tell him that it was okay, that there was a reasonable solution for all of this, and that they’d figure it out side by side. _What will I do if he abandons me?_

“Look,” Atlas said as they pulled into port. “We’re almost at Hephaestus, where Ryan’s holed up in his office. Whatever’s going on with you…it’s not important right now. We need to kill that son of a bitch,” he said with determination. “I need you to focus now, alright?”

Jack felt a pang of guilt at his selfishness. Of course there were more important problems right now. Atlas was right. He nodded and the pair stood, Atlas giving Jack’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. They exited the Bathysphere and made their way to Ryan’s office.

 

The two of them were silent for a minute after it was all over. In the end, it hadn’t been that hard. Ryan hadn’t put up much of a fight, and Jack wondered if the man had considered it a blessing to be released from the nightmare that Rapture had become.

“We should go,” Jack said finally. For some reason, he didn’t feel as triumphant as he’d expected. He was somehow sad.

“Let’s look around a little first,” Atlas suggested. “Ryan probably had his own submarine somewhere; if we find out where it is, we can take it out of this place.” Jack couldn’t deny the logic of Atlas’ plan, so he stepped away from Ryan’s bloody corpse and followed Atlas further into the elaborate office. The two approached the desk, which was strewn with papers and pictures. Jack caught sight of them and rushed forward.

“This is me,” he said quietly. “Why the hell does Ryan have so much information on me?” There were photos, not just of him but of others he didn’t know. People named Tenenbaum and Suchong. “This is that dancer, Jasmine Jolene,” Jack breathed. _This is strange. It’s not right._ He picked up a packet of what looked like laboratory reports and scanned them. “None of this makes sense. What ‘subject’ are they talking about? What is Lot 111?” he asked aloud, flitting from page to page. Atlas stood next to him, silently taking everything in. Jack began shaking, his mind going haywire as he tried to process everything. “Oh my god,” he whispered. His breathing became erratic, and he sank down into Ryan’s chair.

“’Baby is now a year old, weighs 58 pounds, and possesses gross musculature of a fit, 19-year-old. The results are disappointing, but within expected tolerances,’” Atlas read from one of the lab reports. “I suppose we have the answers we were looking for,” Atlas said quietly. He set the paper down and knelt next to Jack, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me. Are you alright?” he asked, his blue eyes full of concern.

“I’m Andrew Ryan’s son,” Jack said, unable to turn away from Atlas in his shock. “I…what did they do to me?”

“Sounds like you were some sort of test subject,” Atlas said. “I wish I could put this lightly, boyo. It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“That’s why I can’t remember anything,” Jack said, more to himself than to Atlas, as he stared at the floor. “All my memories are fake.” He looked up, unconscious of the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I bet you think I’m some sort of freak,” he said, his throat tight.

Atlas took Jack’s hand. “Of course I don’t. You’re the most capable man I’ve met in this hellhole. You’re kind, and caring, and I could never have gotten this far without you. No matter where you come from, I’m standin’ by you through this, Jacky boy. Don’t you worry.”

Jack pressed his lips together in an effort to not vocalize the sobs that choked him. Tears ran down his cheeks as he was filled with relief. “Thank you,” he finally managed.

Smiling, Atlas stood and pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “You’ve done more for me than you know, kid. I’m not leaving you now. Time for us to go topside,” Atlas reminded him.

“I want to see these doctors. If they’re still alive,” Jack said. He hoped it wasn’t too selfish of a request. “You don’t have to go with me. I don’t know how long it will take, or what—”

“Jack,” Atlas interrupted firmly, “what did I just say? I’m stickin’ by you. You want to go talk to these people, let’s go.” Atlas smiled at him, and Jack felt relief flood through him for the first time in a long time. They gathered up some of the reports and made their way back to the Metro station. “Tenenbaum and Suchong. They’re on those posters, aren’t they? ‘Rapture’s best and brightest.’ If that’s the case, I’ll bet they’re up in those posh Olympus Heights apartments. Let’s start there.”

 

Both doctors’ apartments proved to be abandoned. Atlas and Jack walked dejectedly back along the tracks of the disused tram tunnel, discussing further plans.

“Sorry I dragged you on this wild goose chase,” Jack said. “I didn’t really expect them to still be alive, but it would have been nice to know the whole story.”

Atlas took Jack’s hand, causing the younger man to look at him, confused. “Don’t apologize. We could keep looking, ask around, see if anyone’s heard—” Atlas stopped and pulled Jack behind a kiosk in the tunnel. He put a finger to his lips, and Jack could hear the unmistakable sounds of metallic footsteps accompanied by a girl’s voice.

“Don’t be a slowpoke, Mr. B!” the girl said.

“Psst! Hey! Come with me! I’ll take you to Mama Tenenbaum!”

Atlas and Jack looked at one another, each baffled. A Big Daddy with two Little Sisters? Jack peaked out from their hiding place and gasped quietly. One of the girls had the normal glowing eyes of a hypnotized child, but the other was…normal. She beckoned to the hypnotized girl again, this time attracting the attention of the Big Daddy.

Jack cursed and moved out of cover, preparing for a fight. “What are you doing?” Atlas hissed.

“He’s going to kill her,” Jack said. If he could take down the protector, he could save both of the girls. “Hey, over here,” Jack called to the Big Daddy, raising his left hand and shooting blue sparks at it.

He and Atlas made short work of the metal man, then turned their attention to the two screaming girls. The one with the glowing eyes was crying, begging the dead Mr. Bubbles to wake up. “I’m Jack. What’s your name?” Jack asked the other girl softly, crouching down to her level.

“Etta,” she said shyly.

“Can you bring my friend and I to Tenenbaum, too?” Jack asked her. Etta nodded, and Jack lifted up the crying girl, trying to reason with her as the four of them made their way down the tunnel. She wouldn’t stop crying, and it made Jack feel sick with guilt.

“That’s why I know that name,” Atlas mused as they walked. “Tenenbaum created the Little Sisters.”

Eventually, they reached the sewers. Etta knocked four times at a door which opened to reveal some sort of safe house. Before the two men could enter, a woman stepped out from the dim room pointing a gun at them. “Who are you?” she asked. She had a strong German accent, and Jack assumed her to be Tenenbaum.

“We’re here for answers,” Jack said, still holding the girl who had apparently cried herself out. “I’m Andrew Ryan’s son.”

Tenenbaum lowered her gun. “Come in. Is this a little one you have rescued? I must tend to her first,” she said, taking the child from him. She touched her forehead gently, and a bright light shone for a moment before the child seemed to wake up from her hypnosis. Tenenbaum lay the girl down in one of the beds along the wall before turning back to the two men. “Come. We have much to discuss, I think.”

 

She was open with the information on what she and Suchong had done. She told them about the experiments to increase children’s growth rates, and how Jasmine Jolene’s unwanted pregnancy had proved to be just the opportunity they’d been looking for. She was patient, and answered all of Jack’s questions with a frankness that he knew hid no lies.

“It was Frank Fontaine who funded everything. He intended to use you somehow, to overthrow Ryan.”

Jack noticed Atlas bristle at the name, but he didn’t recognize it. “Who’s Frank Fontaine?”

“A crook,” Atlas cut in. “He pretended to be a philanthropist but was really only looking out for himself. He wanted to run Rapture but was just as bad as Ryan. I’m glad the fucker’s dead.”

“And you are the one who set off those bombs at the Kashmir on New Year’s,” Tenenbaum said sharply to Atlas. “Are you really so much better? How much blood paid for that failed attempt at a revolution?” she asked.

“Doctor Tenenbaum?” Jack interrupted. He could tell that Atlas was growing angry, and he didn’t want an altercation when he still had so many questions. “We aren’t here to fight. Could you tell me…how much of my life on the surface is a lie?” he asked tentatively.

She huffed a sigh through her nose, turning away from Atlas. “Most, if not all of it. Suchong hypnotized you and Fontaine fed you those lies. He made it all up.”

Jack did his best to hide his disappointment. “Thank you. You’ve…cleared up a lot.”

“You know where to find me if you have any more questions,” she said.

“We’re getting out of here,” Atlas explained. “Rapture’s dead, no matter what the propaganda says.”

Tenenbaum’s eyes lit up. “Ach, but of course! With Ryan’s genes, you will be able to operate his submarine. That can get us to the surface. You must take us with you.”

“Us who?” Atlas asked, on edge.

Jack laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. It was clear that Atlas didn’t like Tenenbaum, but now was not the time to fight. “We can’t leave all these kids down here to drown,” Jack reminded him softly. Atlas saw the logic in that and nodded, though still scowling.

“How soon can you be ready? We want to leave as soon as possible.”

 

It was difficult to keep track of time in Rapture, so Jack was taken aback when they surfaced in the full light of day. It was so much brighter than he’d imagined, and he stared out of the porthole of the submarine as Atlas navigated them toward civilization.

“Welcome to the real world, Jacky boy,” the older man said with a smile. “What do you think?”

“I…I don’t know,” Jack said. More than anything, he was stunned. There was so much to see, and all of it was new to him. He attempted to voice the thousands of questions that came to his mind, but nothing but stammering came out. Atlas chuckled and threw an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Don’t let the culture shock get to you,” Atlas suggested with a smile.

Jack turned to him, trying to subdue all the emotions welling up inside himself. “Are you glad to see the sunlight again?” he managed to ask.

Atlas’ eyes flitted to the porthole, where the sun reflected on the waves. “You have no idea,” he sighed happily. “And I’m damn glad you’re here with me,” he added.

“Even if I’m some sort of lab-grown freak?” Jack asked, laughing to hide his nervousness.

Atlas wordlessly pulled Jack into an embrace. “Will ya get it through that head o’ yours that I’m not going to leave you?” Atlas murmured.

Jack felt himself melt against the other man and held tight to him, feeling safer than he could ever remember feeling.

 


End file.
